No Wings to Fly

by Jess Foley

  ‘I’ll help you,’ Lily said. ‘Lean on me.’

  It proved not to be possible. As the nurse, clinging to Lily’s arm, put down her right foot in order to stand, she recoiled with a sharp cry. All the while Joshua’s crying continued in the background, though his wailing was now subsiding into a little sobbing sniffle.

  ‘I can’t,’ the nurse said. ‘I can’t stand on it.’

  Lily helped her to sit back on the lower step, then straightened, looking around for the gardener. He was no longer in sight. ‘Don’t move – I’ll go and find Mr Beeching,’ she said. ‘He can’t be far away.’ Then to the boy, gently: ‘You stay here with Nursie, Joshie. I’ll be back in a moment.’

  She was away then, her skirts held in both hands, hurrying up the steps and between the lawns. Racing round the side of the house she saw Mr Beeching cutting the grass near the front gate, and ran to him. Miss Cattock had hurt herself in a fall, she said, and could not get up. Mr Beeching at once laid down his scythe and came running.

  Between them they managed to get the nurse into the house, where Mrs Lemmon came and at once took charge and directed them into the morning room. There Miss Cattock was helped onto the sofa, and while Lily turned her attention to soothe the child, Mr Beeching went to wait out in the hall. When he had gone, Mrs Lemmon took a look at the injured leg, taking off the nurse’s boot. The young woman’s ankle was already swelling alarmingly, and was obviously very painful to the touch. They must, Mrs Lemmon said, send for Dr Sheene, and at once she went out into the hall to despatch Mr Beeching with the summons. That done, Lily took Joshua up to the nursery, away from all the fuss, and there tried to distract him with his blocks.

  The doctor came later, and after his departure Mrs Lemmon came up to the nursery where Joshua sat on the rug before the fire with his toys, the trauma of the recent past now forgotten. Mrs Lemmon looked down at him as he played, and said to Lily in her soft Scottish brogue, ‘Is he all right here with you? He is, isn’t he?’

  ‘Oh, he’s fine,’ Lily said. ‘He’s absolutely fine.’

  ‘Good. Poor Nurse can’t get up the stairs as things are. She’s going to have to sleep down there on the sofa.’

  The doctor, Mrs Lemmon went on to say, had pronounced Miss Cattock’s ankle very badly sprained. He had bound it up, she added, and instructed the nurse that she must rest it and put no weight on it for several days.

  Lily said, ‘But she’s to travel up to Scotland on Sunday with Joshua. That’s only four days away. Mr and Mrs Soameson are expecting them.’

  ‘Well, she can’t travel,’ Mrs Lemmon said. ‘The girl’s not capable of walking a step, and she’s certainly not going to be well enough by Sunday. That’s all there is to it.’ She paused briefly, then said, ‘I’ve just been talking about this with her.’ Another brief pause. ‘You could take the boy, miss.’

  ‘I? Take him up to Scotland?’

  ‘Why not? The fare’s all paid for. The tickets are bought and the sleeper’s booked. And he’ll go with you happily enough – though he wouldn’t go with just anybody, Nurse says.’

  ‘Does she say that?’ Lily said, sounding pathetic to her own ears, seeking endorsement of the heart-warming tribute.

  ‘Oh, she does indeed.’ Mrs Lemmon nodded, backing up her words. ‘Well, what do you think, miss? Can you take the boy? He’ll be in good hands with you, and you won’t have any other duties.’

  ‘No, that’s true, I shall not,’ Lily said. She realised suddenly that it was something she wanted to do. It would give her time to spend with the boy – all those hours she would have with him, half the day and all the night . . . ‘Yes, I suppose I could,’ she said, sounding a little uncertain, as if she were making up her mind. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I will.’

  Mrs Lemmon nodded, pleased and relieved. ‘That’s grand,’ she said. ‘The child will get there after all. Mrs Soameson will have to be told. Will you write to her? I don’t think Nurse is quite up to it.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ll do it now. Mrs Soameson should get it tomorrow, or Friday at the latest.’

  When Mrs Lemmon had departed, Lily satisfied herself that the child was safe and content, then hurried across the landing to her room. There she gathered up her writing materials and went back to the nursery. Joshua was still playing happily before the fire, protected from the flames by the fire-guard. Lily set down her things on the little table by the window, then said to the boy, ‘You know you’re going up to Scotland on Sunday, don’t you, Joshie?’

  He smiled. ‘Yes, I’m going to see my mama.’

  ‘Yes, you are. But Nurse won’t be taking you now. Did you hear what Mrs Lemmon said? I shall be taking you.’

  ‘Oh. Won’t Nursie be coming with us?’

  ‘No, she won’t. But she’ll come up later – when her leg’s better.’

  He nodded. ‘But you’re coming with me.’

  ‘Yes, I shall be taking you. All the way to Scotland. Won’t that be thrilling?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Lily sat down at the table, and arranged her writing paper before her. ‘Now I’m going to write to your mama in Edinburgh. Will you be all right while I do that, darling?’

  He gave a laugh, showing his perfect little teeth. ‘Of course I will.’ Picking up his wooden horse he held it up to her. ‘Can Mr Charlie Dobbin come too?’

  ‘Oh, most certainly. We couldn’t go without Mr Charlie Dobbin. Besides, the more the merrier.’ She adjusted her chair. ‘Now – I must get my letter done.’

  She dipped her pen in the inkwell and began to write.

  When the letter was finished, she gave it to Mrs Lemmon, who arranged with Mr Beeching to have it taken to the post box.

  Lily slept in the nursery that night, in Miss Cattock’s bed, while the nurse spent the night downstairs on the sofa, an old walking stick beside her to enable her to take a few necessary steps when required. The nurse’s accident had changed the whole routine in the house. There was no precedent for such a situation, and it was a matter of doing what was best. While Miss Cattock protested that she was taking a liberty by being in the morning room, Lily and Mrs Lemmon told her that she had no option, and that Mr and Mrs Soameson would certainly want her to have every aid to promote her comfort and recovery. Lily also told her that she had fully informed Mrs Soameson of the nurse’s accident, and had assured her that they would manage perfectly well in spite of it, and that she herself would travel with Joshua to arrive in Edinburgh on Monday morning as arranged.

  Thursday passed quickly for Lily, for she spent most of it with the boy. It was precious time – time, she well knew, that was all too soon to come to an end.

  Friday came. By now she had almost given up expecting to hear any word from Joel, though she was still so hopeful. What possible crisis could there be other than that he was sick or had had an accident?

  The Corster Gazette had come that day, and that evening, in the nursery, while the child lay sleeping, Lily took it to scan the advertisements for some position that would suit in case the one in Little Hawes did not work out. Among the numerous advertisements for sheep and cattle fairs, properties for sale and offers of music tuition, she studied the instances of employment on offer: calls for brewery apprentices, housekeepers, milkmaids and stockmen. There was no call there for a governess. On the right-hand side of the page there was again a report on the smallpox epidemic and its significance in the area. It made for alarming and depressing news.

  The following morning she stayed in the nursery with Joshua, keeping him occupied with his toys and his alphabet blocks, and then in the afternoon took him downstairs to see the nurse where she lay on the sofa, her tightly strapped ankle resting on a cushion. Miss Cattock was glad of the visit, and Joshua was equally pleased to be with her again.

  Lily and the nurse chatted together as the boy played with his toys before the fire. He seemed to be recovering from his cold, Lily thought, and would surely be well enough for the trip the next day. With regard to it, everything w
as now set for the journey; earlier that day she had packed bags for herself and the child, and they were ready to leave. If her assumptions were correct, when she had safely delivered the boy in Edinburgh, she would stay overnight and then set off to return to Corster on the Tuesday. From that time on, her employment with the Soamesons would be finished. Further, she would have said goodbye to the child for the last time.

  As she sat chatting with Emily Cattock, there came a tap at the door, and Susie opened it and held out an envelope. The postman had just called, she said, and there was a letter for Miss Clair.

  Lily thanked her, took it, and saw at once that it was from Joel.

  She stood there with the letter in her hand as Susie closed the door and left. ‘Well,’ Emily said, ‘aren’t you going to open it? Joshie and I’ll excuse you.’

  Lily turned and smiled. ‘Later,’ she said. ‘I’ll read it later.’

  Chapter Thirty-four

  In the early evening Lily and the maid brought up hot water to the nursery and Lily bathed Joshua. He was cheerful, but she could see behind his humour that he was tired, and that his tiredness would soon overtake him. She studied him as she washed him in the soft, warm water, gently smoothing on the soap and sponging it away, taking her time, almost not wishing the pleasure to end. She took in everything about him, revelling in each little observation of this perfect form that she had once miraculously discovered and known, and lost, and now was discovering all over again. It was something she had thought she would never do. She took in the feeling of his skin, like the finest silk, the perfect shape of his little limbs, his exquisite fingers and toes, the blush of his cheek, the texture of his fair hair as it sprang from his temples and curled in the damp. She took in the smile he turned to her, showing his small white teeth, and the subtle dimple beside his lip. She took in the little crescent mark by his ear – and if it was a flaw, dear God, she would not have had him without it. There was a bubble of soap on his chin which she wiped away with a fingertip, and as she gloried in him she remembered the times when she had bathed him before the fire at Rowanleigh. Now it was a different flickering fire, and he was four years older. Without question, though, he was still her son. Perfect and beautiful.

  When she had finished she lifted him out and dried him with a towel warmed on the fire-guard, and then dressed him in his little nightshirt.

  ‘I don’t want to go to bed,’ he said. ‘I’m not tired yet.’

  ‘Oh, but Joshie,’ she said, ‘tomorrow we’re going on that long journey.’ Before she had come to The Gables she had thought of him always as Georgie. No more. Joshua was his name, a part of him. She accepted it now, fully.

  ‘Tomorrow?’ he said, looking at her wide-eyed.

  ‘Yes, tomorrow. I told you.’ She sat down and lifted him onto her lap. ‘We’re going up to Scotland.’

  ‘Scotland. Oh, yes.’ He nodded and gave a yawn.

  ‘You’re a tired little man,’ she said, then added, ‘Yes, what an adventure that will be, to go to Scotland.’

  ‘Is it nice there, in Scotland?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure it is. You’re going to be very happy.’ She had wrapped him in her arms, her right hand enclosing his two small feet. ‘You’re going to be living in Edinburgh from now on. A beautiful place, they say. Where your mama and papa are now – waiting for you.’

  ‘And Vinnie too?’

  ‘Yes, Lavinia too. They’re all waiting for you.’

  He smiled. ‘Are they? Shall I see them tomorrow?’

  ‘No, but we’ll set out tomorrow. It’s a very long journey.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Oh, indeed it is. We have to go to Pilching first, then to Corster. Then we go to London, and from London to Edinburgh. It’ll take many hours.’

  ‘Will it?’

  ‘Oh, indeed it will. So you’ll need to have a good sleep and be fresh for the journey.’

  ‘Yes, I shall.’ He nodded. ‘And you must have a good sleep too, and be fresh for the journey.’

  ‘Yes, I must.’

  ‘Will Nursie be sleeping downstairs again tonight?’

  ‘Yes, she will. She can’t climb the stairs yet.’

  ‘Not with her leg bad, no.’

  ‘No, poor Nurse.’

  ‘Will you be sleeping here in Nursie’s bed again tonight?’

  ‘Yes, I shall.

  ‘You won’t leave me alone, will you?’

  ‘No.’ She breathed the word as she smoothed his hair back from his brow ‘I won’t leave you alone.’

  He yawned again, his mouth opening wide. ‘Come,’ Lily said, ‘into bed with you, young man.’

  He did not protest as she rose, lifted him onto the bed and tucked him in under the covers.

  ‘Here – have Bunny.’ From beside the pillow she took up his stuffed rabbit, a rather sorry-looking creature missing half of one ear and with much of its coat worn away, and laid it in his arms. ‘He must sleep too.’

  ‘Is there room for Bunny to come to Scotland? Along with Mr Dobbin?’

  ‘I should think so. You go to sleep now.’

  She bent over him as he settled and closed his eyes, and stayed watching him until he had drifted off. It took so little time. In less than a minute she could see his lips part as his breathing became gently rhythmic. She hovered a moment, then bent lower and touched him gently with a kiss on his sweet-smelling hair. Then she straightened and turned away.

  Joel’s letter, unopened still, lay where she had left it, on the table near the window.

  With the child sleeping behind her, she moved to the table, stood there for a moment then sat down. The letter lay in the little pool of light cast by the oil lamp. Since being handed it by the maid earlier that day she had had no opportunity to read it in privacy. Now she had. She took the letter up, slipped the tip of her finger under the envelope’s flap, and tore it open.

  The letter was dated the twenty-eighth of October. It had taken almost two weeks to reach her. He had written:

  My dearest Lily,

  There is nothing I can say, no matter what careful and subtle words I choose, that can possibly bring you any comfort. I am so aware of that, and I am aware of how badly I have let you down. You had the right to expect everything from me. Indeed, I made it clear that you had that right, and now I am going back on my promise and have taken that right away. How can you forgive me? And can I even ask you to do so? As you see by the address from which I’m writing, I am still in Paris, and on this day I was supposed to be returning to Corster, ready for my meeting with you tomorrow at the Crimmond. And by the time you receive this you will have been to the restaurant and waited for me, and eventually realised that I was not going to appear.

  I must not delay any further, but must tell you the truth. You deserve nothing less. And you deserve so much more than I have ever been able to give you.

  When I wrote last I told you that I had ended my understanding with Miss Roget. This was the truth. I told her that I loved another, and could not continue with the relationship as it was. She was, as you can well imagine, distressed by my revelation, but nevertheless she said she understood and would not wish to stand in the way of my happiness, as painful to her as it was. Oh, Lily, I cannot describe how difficult it was for me to tell her such things. She is such a good and upright person – I know you would agree with this if you knew her – and so deserving of someone who loves her and appreciates all her excellent qualities.

  Even so, having unburdened my brain and my heart, I thought I was in control of the situation, and that even a similar revelation to my father was something that I could execute. I would have to, for I wished only to be back in England at your side.

  Alas, Lily, things have not turned out as I intended, as I wished. Having told Miss Roget and my father, and while making my plans to leave for England, I watched this fine woman fall into a decline and, knowing that I had been the cause of it, I was stricken with remorse. I could not escape seeing the results of my action. Even tho
ugh she did her best to avoid me, we were thrown together by circumstances, and I could not but see the effect upon her that I had had. I had dashed all her hopes of happiness, and, further, felt I had ruined her chances of marriage to anyone else.

  In the end, Lily, I could face it no more, and I asked her to forgive me and assured her that we would go on as we had. I have told my father also, and he is, of course, much relieved by my change of heart. And now I have to tell you that discussions are underway with Miss Roget and her mother concerning a time for our marriage. I cannot say that the new arrangement brings me the greatest joy, but I must take comfort from the fact that I am doing the right thing, as most would view it.

  But you, Lily – to you I have brought such grief, I know that. And I have no way of mending it. I have told Miss Roget that I will remain with her and marry her, and at the same time I have deserted you, the one I love above all others, and who deserves love as much as anyone else. I will not ask you to forgive me, for forgiveness is not appropriate nor something I could ever expect. Perhaps, though, you might possibly understand a little of my situation, and see how a weak man can find himself so in a tangle.

  I hardly know what else to say. Lily, you are a fine and beautiful and intelligent young woman, and in time there will come someone who is deserving of you, for certainly I am not. And that someone, whoever he may be, will make you happy, and you will find that, in the end, you were better off without me.

  I will say only one thing more: that is that I shall never forget you, nor the brightness and the love that you brought into my life. I did not deserve any of it, but I shall treasure it none the less.

  Joel

  Lily laid the letter down on the table and sat there in the soft glow of the lamp while the time passed and the little clock on the mantelpiece ticked into the quiet. Taking in the clock’s face she saw that it was after eight. Mrs Lemmon would have been expecting her downstairs to eat. It did not matter. She remained where she was. She had not drawn the curtains, and beyond her still head the sky was starless and dark.